


put the stars in our eyes

by keithkin (ghozting)



Series: soulmates-dreamscape au [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Canon Related, Fluff, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining Keith (Voltron), Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-12
Updated: 2018-09-12
Packaged: 2019-07-10 14:32:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15951302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghozting/pseuds/keithkin
Summary: Keith turns his body and brings his legs onto his bed, sitting criss cross with his shoulders hunched up near his ears. He wants to say something, and he can tell that Lance is waiting patiently for him to find the words, but he isn’t sure that it’s possible to form something eloquent.So, he says, “are you disappointed?”He doesn’t look at Lance when he speaks. He doesn’t think he'll like what he finds on his face.“Well, I’d rather not be glowing right now,” Lance responds.or: after years of Keith not having a soulmate, something changes.





	put the stars in our eyes

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so this fic is literally so self-indulgent, but I don't care. Season seven made me SAD and I decided that I hate voltron so I'm gonna write whatever I want, however I want (that's where the #canon-related tag comes in). I had a lot of fun writing this!! -- I originally just wanted to do a Keith character study, but then I got the idea for soulmates, so. This fic just morphed into... whatever this fluffy piece this is.
> 
> Thanks to my beta reader, Noelle (your comments made me smile so hard) and the SafeKlanceWriters Network on Tumblr! Without them, I literally can't write a thing, so send them lots of love.
> 
> The title is from the song Toothpaste Kisses by The Maccabees

 

 

>>> 

 

_Lay with me, I'll lay with you_

_We'll do the things that lovers do_

_Put the stars in our eyes_

 

>>> 

 

 

He thinks that, maybe, if he could feel anything, it would be cold. 

That makes sense. Water rushes down the glass walls on the outside, leaving the black scape of nothing (or is it everything?) in a distorted blur. He wonders how the black darkness can look so wrong, but he blames his mind—maybe it isn’t supposed to make sense. It’s peaceful, to watch the way the rain of his mind drips down the sides. It’s like looking at a waterfall from the inside... or at least that’s what he’d think it’d look like. 

But Keith has never seen a waterfall before, so what does he know? 

His back rests against the glass, he can tell that much. Despite the heavy rain, there isn’t much to do when he enters this dream state other than to wait for his other half to arrive. 

And, when Keith says ‘other half’, he says it as bitter and sarcastically as one can manage. No matter what, he knows that his soulmate isn’t going to appear—they should have long ago when Keith first started getting these dreams. It broke his heart when he was younger; it was just another thing that separated him from the majority because being an autistic, gay, orphan Asian boy apparently wasn’t enough for the universe, or whatever higher-being assigned destiny, so he was also soulmate-less. 

It sucked, to say the very least. But as time passed, and after his father died in the fire, Keith learned that there were bigger things to worry about. Things bigger than true love. So whatever resentment he held for his dull, soulmate-less life was eventually set aside in his head. 

 _People leave, anyways_ , is a thought Keith has more often than not. 

At least in the dreamscape he has time in solitude. That’s one of the few things he likes about it, being able to sit alone for hours on end, just spending his time thinking. It sounds...  _boring_ , he knows that, but waking up the next morning fully rested while also having some things sorted out in his head? That’s a definite win, and he  _does_ thank the relentless Fates for that. 

For some reason, tonight he finds himself thinking back to his time on Earth after his father died. It’s not uncommon for his mind to wander so far back, especially when he’s sitting alone in the glass, but he isn’t quite sure what prompts it. 

He remembers a woman, tall with dark brown skin and darker brown eyes. She had a kind smile and sat with Keith on Thursday afternoons, asking him questions about school and the things he liked. He remembers how long it took for him to start talking to her about things, and Keith laughs at the memory. He recalls it so distinctly that it plays out in front of him. 

 _“Mindfulness. Do you know what that means?”_  

 _Keith had shaken his head but watched her eagerly. The woman smiled, lips curling up to her round cheekbones with warmth._  

 _“We are conscious beings, Keith. So, you know that outside of this building, there is grass sprouting from the Earth, and trees so old that they’ve outlived us. My car is out there right now, I know this. But the thing is, all we actually know is in this room._ _So if I were to click the alarm on my car keys, you’d hear it outside, right? But since we are in this room, we cannot know if my car is out there—we would just know that there was an alarm. While we know that there are trees out there, could you actually prove it to me?”_  

 _Keith blinked at her, nostrils flaring and lips parting in an unflattering way. It made sense, but it was really... out there. He voiced that opinion, and the woman had laughed._  

Her laughter echoes away and the memory disperses in a flash of light, leaving a tingling sensation in Keith’s chest that he can recognize as fondness. Flipping through memories in this state was always weird; sometimes they were as clear as daylight, but other times they were warped, misaligned and hard to decipher.  

Some memories were, decidedly, worse than others. 

“Huh. That was a better one than last time.” 

(— _it was like hearing his favorite song again_ —) 

The voice sends a jolt down Keith’s spine, so harsh that he loses his breath. Wheezing, he whips his head around to face the figure that he somehow hadn’t noticed before. Keith clutches his chest, blunt fingernails digging into the black cotton V-neck as he stares at the person sitting next to him. 

Something about the person’s voice, the way he’d spoken, sounded self-deprecating. It twists Keith’s gut in a way that he's used to, however, the familiar sight and sound of said person didn’t stop Keith from having a heart attack. 

The boy sitting next to him, with tanned skin and wavy brown hair, jumps backward. He looks pale in the face, despite the flush that rose up his neck, all the way to the tips of his ears. His eyes are wide, bulging as if they could pop right out of his head as he stares at Keith in disbelief and mortification. 

“Wha...who—?” Keith can’t find his voice when he speaks, so everything comes out as a whine. “Who  _are_ you?” Keith finally finds his voice, rough and scratchy and definitely terrified. “How long have you been here?!” 

The boy blinks at him. He opens his mouth a few times before closing it dumbly. 

“Uhh... the—the whole time?” He replies in a squeak. “You couldn’t... you’ve never have been able to see me, Keith— why can you see me?’ 

“How do you know my name?” Keith presses, scrambling to the opposite glass wall, away from the mystery boy. His mind is racing a mile a second,  _could this be my soulmate? Why is he here now? Who is he?_  “You didn’t answer my first question, either!” 

The boy, whose name feels as if it’s on the tip of Keith’s tongue for some reason, scoffs. Keith can’t stop the way his heart smashes against his ribcage, and he distantly wonders if it could bruise. 

“You seriously don’t recognize me?” 

His voice is softer this time. It sends sharp pains into Keith’s heart, something akin to guilt. 

Keith’s eyes scan the boy's face, taking in his upturned nose and pointy chin. He has high cheekbones, a thick bottom lip and a thinner top one, and freckles—  _God_ , Keith’s soulmate has freckles,  _score_. 

“You’re... handsome,” Keith mutters without thinking. He freezes for a moment, face heating up. 

The mystery boy sputters at that, face growing a concerning shade of red. 

“Don’t say that!” he screeches. He brings his hands up to bury his face in, muttering something intelligible before snapping his head back up to meet Keith’s gaze. “Look me in the eyes, man. You really don’t remember me?” 

Keith frowns at his words. 

“Do we... know each other?” Keith asks lamely. 

The boy rolls his eyes like,  _duh_. 

Keith’s back is cold against the glass. His own hand feels warm against his chest, and the thudding of his heartbeat is grounding. Keith takes a deep breath. 

Apparently, he has a soulmate, and  _apparently_ , they know each other? Is that why he sounds so familiar? Something weird flutters inside of him, something sweet like nostalgia. He can feel how chilly the glass is on his back, and he forgets the nothingness he had felt moments prior— the years of feeling nothing, now wiped away with the overwhelming sensation of possibility. This boy, who is watching him and is starting to look more and more like a kicked puppy each moment Keith is silent, was here the whole time? 

Why is Keith just noticing him now? 

“You’re so far away, I can’t even tell what color your eyes are,” Keith says. “Why can’t you just tell me your name?” 

The boy stares at Keith. Something shifts around them and the air becomes heavy. At the moment, there is silence between the two as the brown-haired boy looks down at the concrete floors. Keith watches him carefully, eyes tracing the curls on the top of his head to the frayed, army green jacket and blue skinny jeans. 

Even with the tension, Keith is surprised to feel... at ease. 

The other boy scoots closer. Keith feels inclined to move from the wall he’s lingered on, and the two find themselves sitting in the middle of the glass room. Keith sits on his legs, but the boy has his legs crossed as he picks away at the hems of his army jacket. 

Keith wants to tell him to look up, but he doesn’t have to. 

When the boy lifts his face, Keith’s met with stark blue eyes. Bluer than anything he’d ever seen—Keith isn’t even sure that he’d ever seen a blue so pure. It's rich to look at, like a dozen of sapphires glittering in sunlight. He wondered if he knew that, how beautiful they were. Keith could get lost in them and not even care about finding his destination, because—wait. 

Wait. 

(— _blue eyes like sapphire_ —) 

A nervous grin pulls on the boy's face. 

His breath catches in his throat. His stomach is tight. 

Holy. Shit. 

“You...” Keith rasps, throat suddenly very dry. “I... I  _know_ you.” 

Lance McClain— _the_ Lance McClain, former pilot of the Red Lion, now back in Blue due to “popular demand”— is sitting right in front of him. Lance lets a small chuckle past his lips. He rubs the back of his neck, eyes darting to the side in a way so bashful that Keith isn’t sure it suited him. 

“I guess I don’t need to introduce myself then, huh?” 

The oxygen in Keith’s lungs escapes him, forcing a choked sound out of his mouth. Lance’s eyes widen a fraction, panicked and partially humiliated. Keith wonders how long Lance had known— he said he was there the entire time. The entire time, meaning the full dream, or since he was a kid? 

“You—I don’t—” Keith’s voice shakes as he talks, head spinning. Lance holds out his hands to steady Keith. The worry that rolled off of him is so apparent now, and Keith can’t help but think,  _can I read him this well or is it just the dream?_   

“Hey,  _hey_ , calm down!” Lance tries. “You’re going to put yourself in shock, or a coma, or worse—wake up!” 

“How is that  _worse_?!” 

“Because we have to talk, and you might not remember this when you wake up!” 

“Is that a bad thing?!” 

Lance glares at him. Keith sucks in a deep breath, inflating his lungs like balloons. 

“How long?” Keith asks after a moment, wide eyes flickering across Lance’s face. Lance’s lips press into a line but he never looks away. “You said the whole time, does that mean...?” 

Lance clenches his jaw. 

“At first, I couldn’t see you, either,” Lance finally peels his eyes away from Keith. He looks down into his lap. One of his crossed legs bounces rhythmically. “I thought I was... I thought I didn’t have a soulmate until I was fourteen. At the Garrison, I saw you for the first time—in chemistry, sitting at the front of the class...” 

Lance pauses for a moment, face going slack at the memory. Something foreign dances in his eyes, and Keith peers closer. He wants to say something, maybe to call out his name, but Keith isn’t sure he can. Thousands of thoughts swirl in his head, and yet Keith’s eyes remain trained on Lance’s faraway look. 

Lance is here. Is it possible that this is just some weird, interactive memory? 

(— _his crush, his stupid crush—it shouldn’t work like this but what if it’s just his mind playing tricks on_ _him?—_ _he should be elated Lance is here, telling him their story but no_ _no_ _no_ _no_ _he’s going to throw up he’s going to leave_ —) 

“My own box was left behind,” Lance adds, voice curt. His eyebrows furrow down to the bridge of his nose. “And when I was here, I was alone. I just... thought maybe my head was going through some things? Your dreamscape is really different from mine, so I was freaking out a little. I guess I grew to like it after a while. But... then the rain started. And then I was always so mad? And I don’t get mad, Keith.” 

Keith scoffs. He forces the turmoil inside of his head away. 

“You get mad. I piss you off all of the time.” 

“That’s not—This was a  _different_ anger.” Lance snaps, head shooting up to send a dirty look at Keith. “This was agony.” 

Keith’s lip trembles. He remembers the day the rain had started— it was the day Keith saw the news of the Kerberos Mission— the news that Shiro and the rest of the crew were dead due to “pilot error”. Lance hesitates, something somber in his eyes as they trail across Keith’s face. 

He closes his eyes, silently pleading that Lance will stop looking at him like that. 

“Are you—”  _Are you mad that it’s me? Will I be enough for you? Does this mean anything?_  

Keith sucks in a shaky breath. No. He can’t ask that, what is he thinking?  

“When did you first see me?” 

The glass is quiet, other than Keith’s own breathing and the soft sound of rain outside. 

Lance doesn’t reply. 

Keith peeks an eye open. He’s met with empty space around him. Opening his eyes completely, his head snaps to the side, looking around the cube, only to find that he’s alone once again. Something pulls in his chest as he loses the senses he was only starting to get used to. 

The coldness from the glass is gone, and the rain pours down harder. 

   
 

>>> 

   
 

Keith wakes up to a soft tapping on his door. 

He groans, head foggy as he blindly reaches his hand underneath his pillow to find the orange tablet Coran had given him and the rest of the team. He pulls it out from his feathered pillow and taps the screen once, squeezing his eyes shut at the stark brightness that rudely shines in his face. 

He blinks a few times, trying to adjust to the light. The time reads 4:15 AM at the top of his screen. He can see the alarm icon next to it, and Keith sighs; he was planning on getting up early that morning to get some training in before the team worked on their bonding exercises, but he didn’t want to get up  _this_  early. 

The tapping on his door continues. Keith lets a groan slip past his lips and pulls himself out of bed. The Castle of Lions is freezing, so Keith grabs the woven blue blanket that slipped to the floor over his shoulders, curling up in it as he approaches the door. 

The doors sensors recognize him and slip open. The hallways of the Castle are usually dark, only illuminated by the turquoise night lights that Pidge managed to set to low, but as he looks at the figure standing in the doorway, he notices that… it isn’t dark at all. 

In fact, Lance stands in front of him, disheveled from sleep, glowing an obnoxious red. Keith stares at him, blinks, and then the whole dream hits him like a train. 

Keith drops the blanket from his shoulders and looks down at his own hands. He's glowing a soft blue, opposite of Lance’s red. 

“Get in here,” Keith grumbles. Lance doesn’t need to be told twice and he slips inside, with Keith’s bedroom door sliding shut after him. 

Keith rubs at his eyes with the side of his hand. It’s too early to function, and apparently, Lance thinks the same thing, because he crawls into Keith’s bed and lies down face first. 

“Dis suhcks.” Lance’s voice is muffled by Keith’s pillow. Luckily, he lifts his head and holds his body up on his forearms, sending a blank look at Keith. “We’re  _glowing_. We’re stupid late-bloomers. I can’t believe this! This happens to kids in elementary school, Keith! Not two high school dropout soldiers!” 

Keith sighs. “I forgot that this was a thing that happened,” he mumbles, eyes moving from Lance to the metal floorboards. “I thought it’d feel like something, but I didn’t even notice I was glowing until I saw you.” 

Lance laughs at that. 

“I’m lit up like a Christmas tree! At least your color is nice.” Lance rolls over onto his back. “I can’t believe I’m red. I thought I’d be yellow.” 

Keith furrows his brows at that.  

“Yellow? Why not blue?” Keith asks, frowning. “I thought I’d be red.” 

Lance shrugs. 

“Dunno. I thought yellow was fitting.” Lance lifts his arms up in the air, looking like a sleeping zombie. “But red… it’s ironic.” 

It was Keith’s turn to laugh. He looks down at his own pale arms, looking even more milky in the blue glow. 

“I guess.” 

The two lapse into an uncomfortable silence after that. Keith wants to sit down on his bed, but Lance rudely stole his spot and decided to claim it for his own. He could sit on the floor, but he’s only wearing his boxers and normal black shirt, and the metal is  _cold_. 

Lance must notice his dilemma because he sits up from where he's laying as runs his hand through his messy, un-straightened hair.  

“Sorry for waking you up,” Lance whispers after a moment. He looks out of place as if he just realized what's going on. Keith looks up at him and frowns. “I just wanted to see… to make sure that it wasn’t just some illusion.” 

Keith’s frown slips away, Lance’s words heavy on his chest. 

“It’s okay. I was going to wake up soon, anyway,” Keith assures him. Lance stares at him as if he’s trying to decide whether or not Keith is lying. He then shrugs, scooting closer to the corner of Keith’s bed, far away from his pillow now. He looks small, and for some reason, Keith’s anxieties are silenced. He moves to the bed and sits on the edge of it. 

He can feel Lance’s eyes burning holes into his back, but Keith isn’t really sure what to say. Finding out that his soulmate was so close the entire time… it’s overwhelming, really. He has so many questions and concerns. 

Keith turns his body and brings his legs onto his bed, sitting criss-cross with his shoulders hunched up near his ears. He wants to say something, and he can tell that Lance is waiting patiently for him to find the words, but he isn’t sure that it’s possible to form something eloquent. 

So, he says, “are you disappointed?” 

He doesn’t look at Lance when he speaks. He doesn’t think he’ll like what he finds on his face. 

“Well, I’d rather not be glowing right now,” Lance responds. 

Keith glares at his hands in his lap. “Lance.” 

He hears the other sigh. 

“What do you want me to say, Keith?” Lance mumbles, voice tight. “You hate me. That’s not an ideal soulmate. I mean, sure, you’re heroic and strong, you have strong morals and a great sense of self, and pretty eyes, but I kinda wish I had a soulmate who liked me.” 

Keith’s head shoots up. “You think I have pretty eyes?” 

Lance huffs. “Is that really what you take from all of that?” 

It wasn’t, but Keith isn’t sure how to go about explaining to Lance how he really feels. He can understand that it wouldn’t be that weird now, telling Lance that he’s head over heels for him, but his stomach churns at the thought. 

“I don’t hate you, Lance,” Keith says after a moment. Lance watches him with careful eyes, eyebrows twitching low. He looks disbelieving, and Keith can’t say that he doesn’t blame him. “I really don’t. Sometimes you get on my nerves, yeah— but I’m sure it’s the same for you?” 

Lance hums quietly. He peels his eyes away from Keith’s face to look at the wall on the opposite side of the bedroom. He swallows and Keith shamelessly watches his adam's apple bob up and down his throat. 

“Yeah, I guess that’s true,” Lance mumbles after a moment. “We wouldn’t even be able to form Voltron if you  _did_.” 

Keith’s lips curl into a tiny smile. “No, we wouldn’t.” 

Lance glances back at him, eyes heavy. “What about you?” he asks. Keith stares at him, watching how his jaw is set firm and his eyes pool with a weird emotion. “Are you disappointed?” 

Keith sucks in a breath— the dreaded question. He doesn’t want to lie, but his hands shake in his lap and he really hopes that Lance can’t see the effect he’s having on him. 

“I never thought I’d get a soulmate,” Keith whispers. His teeth dig into his bottom lip as he rubs his thumb across the planes of his index finger. He sighs. “I thought, you know… I never thought— I remember when the cycles first began, and I was the only person in my class who wasn’t glowing. So, I guess I’m in shock. I thought I wouldn’t get a happy ending, not like everyone else.” 

Lance nods his head, slowly. 

“Right?” Lance replies, seemingly enthusiastic. "It was the same for me.” 

Keith lifts his head. It's now or never. 

(— _not true, you can tell him later—he doesn’t have to know at all—this doesn’t MEAN anything what are you doing_ —) 

“Yeah,” He mumbles, voice hoarse. He looks to the side, clenching his fists as he stares at the blue and red lighting up polar sides of his cot. “I don’t know. It’s different from what I’d thought it’d be, but I’m not disappointed.”  _How could I be?_  

Lance scoots closer to him, mimicking Keith’s position. Keith doesn’t look at him, he’s too busy trying to find the words he needs to continue. He remembers Lance’s voice from the dreamscape, how broken up he sounded when Keith couldn’t remember his name. The things it did to his heart— he  _never_  wants to hear Lance sound like that again. 

“And now,” Keith’s voice is tight in his throat, crawling desperately at him to be voiced. He glances up at Lance, whose eyes are already fixed on him, shining purple underneath the red glow. “… now, I guess I feel… hopeful.” 

He looks away almost immediately. The atmosphere around them remains heavy, but there’s something else making its way through that Keith can’t recognize. He feels a lightness on his shoulders, something old and familiar from the days before he first saw Lance’s blue eyes.  

Lance reaches out, cold fingertips sinking underneath his palm to grab Keith’s hand. Keith’s eyes widen a fraction and he looks back at Lance, then down at their joined hand. 

The red and blue mix with a small jolt, sending electricity up Keith’s arm to his chest, all the way down to his toes. His eyes focus on the way the blue of his arm gradually shifts in hue, the glow around him turning purple. 

Keith looked over at Lance and notices that his arm is changing colors as well. 

But Lance didn’t seem to notice. His eyes zeroed in on Keith, so when Keith looked back up to his gaze, he's met with a small smile. It's nothing like the wide grins or the cocky smirk Lance usually had— no, this time his smile is lopsided, bashful, something only for him. 

Keith swallows thickly. 

“I know what you mean,” Lance’s fingers tighten around his hand, a gentle squeeze that steals Keith’s breath. He’s weak. 

Lance’s words hold the weight of a confession. Something swirls inside of Keith’s chest as he blinks at the other boy. Could Lance see the warmth that spreads across his cheeks in the darkness of his bedroom?  

His head swarms with thoughts, possibilities that he never thought could be plausible. Lance still has that look on his face, one so delicate that it’s causing a whirlwind of emotions throughout Keith’s entire body, scattering any coherency he has. 

And Keith? He stares back at Lance, slack-jawed with eyes as round as saucers. He can see the flush across Lance’s cheekbones, the way the tips of his ears that stick out of his messy, bedridden curls grow a shade darker, and Lance finally looks down to their interwoven hands. 

“Listen, Keith—” 

“LANCEIHAVEFEELINGSFORYOU.” 

Lance snaps his head back up as Keith throws a hand over his own mouth. He instantly curses himself in his head, unable to peel his eyes away from Lance’s face. Lance’s eyes are wide, and his are lips parted as he watches Keith. 

Keith, however, silently begs the Fates to cut his string early— he can’t believe he said that. That was probably the worst thing to say? Ever? 

“You—what?” Lance stutters out. His eyes search Keith’s own cautiously. There’s a somber tension in his eyes that dissipates almost immediately as Keith digs his teeth into his bottom lip and glances down to his lap, where Lance’s grip on his hand has grown tighter. 

Keith takes a deep breath and lets the cold air of his bedroom consume him. 

“I—I can’t believe I just said that,” Keith breathes out. He looks back up at Lance and can’t stop the way his eyebrows pinch together at his carefully nonchalant face. For some reason, it feels like a weight has been lifted from his shoulders—it moved to his gut, of course, but at least it made Keith feel less like he was carrying the sky on his shoulders. “Sorry, that was— I didn’t mean to interrupt you. I shouldn’t have said anything.” 

Lance keeps opening his mouth and closing it like a fish, and even though Keith feels a surge of affection for the other boy, it doesn’t whisk away the stress that has slowly built inside of him like a brick house. 

“Wait, no, Keith—” Lance says as his brows knit together. His voice is a little pitchy and he wears a mask of confusion, and Keith isn’t sure that he likes it. But, he supposes that he’d rather Lance be shocked than for him to be like,  _oh yeah,_ duh _, that’s obvious_ , so Keith can’t really say anything. “It’s okay! I just didn’t expect you to say that? At all?” 

Keith’s hangs his head low. His hair shields his eyes and ever-growing blush. 

“Yeah, me neither,” Keith replies, voice curt. 

Lance has the audacity to snort. It doesn’t annoy him as much as he pretends it does. 

The silence that falls over them once more is less uncomfortable than it could’ve been, but Keith can’t help but shift in his position on his bed awkwardly. Lance still is holding his hand, the back of his palm resting on Keith’s bare knee, and he seems adamant toward keeping their hands together. Keith is thankful—the warmth of his contact is grounding in his cold bedroom. 

He sort of wishes that he didn’t drop his blanket on the floor, it would’ve been much more comfortable to curl up in it than try to suck away Lance’s body heat. 

“Hey, can you look at me?” Lance’s voice has gone soft. His thumb brushes Keith’s knuckle. 

Keith doesn’t know if it would be possible to say no to Lance, so he lifts his head to stare at the boy through the strands of his messy black hair. Lance huffs out a laugh and brings up his free hand to brush Keith’s bangs out of the way. 

His eyes widen after he realizes what he’d done. Keith isn’t sure he can form a coherent thought. 

“Um. Sorry,” Lance mumbles, shaking his head as if he needs to clear his thoughts. 

Keith swallows thickly and nods back, knowing that if he speaks, his voice will fail him. He’s still exhausted, and the team has training in four hours, but he doesn’t want to sleep— for once, his reality feels more like a dream. 

“ _Anyway_ ,” Lance continues, chuckling lowly to himself. “As I was saying, there isn’t—you don’t have to look like a kicked puppy, dude. I’m glad that you told me, although you  _did_ interrupt me when I was trying to say the same thing. So. That was a  _little_ rude.” 

Keith manages a weak laugh, but it dies halfway in his throat. 

He... was trying to say the same thing. To Keith? 

Keith’s face must give his train of thought away because Lance throws his head back and lets out a strangled groan. His exasperation might have been overplayed, but Keith honestly couldn’t tell—Lance is a lot better at reading him than he had formerly thought. 

“Dude,” Lance mutters as he turns his attention back to Keith. Keith only blinks owlishly at him. “Seriously?” Lance says after a beat, face twisting into something incredulous. “Wow, okay, and here I thought that you knew the entire time.” 

Keith makes a sound in the back of his throat that could only be translated to, ‘ _???_ ’. 

Lance rolls his eyes. “The rivalry?” He gestures vaguely with his free hand. He looks as Keith as if he were dumb, and if Keith’s being completely honest, he  _feels_ like an idiot. Lance thinks his crush was obvious, but Keith didn’t have a clue that Lance thought of him like that. “Dude, you  _cradled_  me in your arms. I let you do that! I was  _very into_ that!” 

Keith’s lips tug down and his bottom lip pouts outward. “I thought you didn’t remember?” 

Lance sighs. “Is that seriously all you’re getting from this?” he asks, and Keith offers a small shrug. Lance sighs again, but this time it’s more forceful. He looks unimpressed. “Okay, let me summarize this for you because I’m pretty sure you’re brain dead: I like you, and we’re soulmates. That means we’re going to glow purple for the next twenty-four hours, and it also means that since we both like each other, we can totally be exclusive. Go steady. Make out like,  _all_ the time—if you’re into that.” 

Keith nods dumbly. “I’m— I’m into that,” he replies. “All of that.  _You_. This?” 

Lance stares at him, and Keith stares back. A smile cracks along Lance’s face, lopsided and showing his neat teeth. His eyes crinkle at the corners, and his shoulders wobble as he chuckles and he shakes his head back in forth like,  _I can’t believe you_. 

Keith’s lip twitches up involuntarily as he stares at Lance. His heart is thudding in his chest at a steady pace, but there is still something inside of him that feels intense. It’s like his blood is moving to the sound of Lance’s laughter, and his heart nearly skips several beats at the thought of he and Lance being exclusive. 

And then, in the midst of his laughter, Lance yawns. 

It causes a chain reaction, but Keith manages to cover his mouth to try to conceal it. Lance blinks at him, finger still brushing against Keith’s knuckles as if he were on autopilot. His smile never falters and the way that he keeps on looking at Keith makes him feel like he’s floating. 

“I can’t believe you woke me up at 4 in the morning,” Keith complains as he squeezes Lance’s hand. 

He’s no longer looking at Lance’s face, but at where their hands are intertwined together. The purple light seems to glow brighter there, and Keith wonders if they would go back to their original blue and red if he pulled away: it's a theory that he didn't really feel like testing. 

Lance leans back against Keith’s wall. He shifts in his spot for a moment before he slumps to the side, stealing Keith’s pillow to use to prop up his head. Keith glances up, raising an eyebrow at Lance, whose eyes were blinking slowly up at him. 

“Stop complaining and cuddle me, we have training in a few hours,” Lance mumbles, and then adds, “Also grab your blanket, s’cold as balls.” 

Keith laughs and leans backward, tightening his grip on Lance’s hand as he reaches for the blue blanket he had left crumpled on the floor. Lance makes a sound as the tip of Keith’s finger brushes the fabric, muttering something that sounds like a sleepy, “You can do it!” 

He manages to grab a tall wrinkle and pull it toward him. He sits back up with ease, thanking the fact that he doesn’t miss core day for moments like this before he throws the blanket onto Lance’s face. Lance groans at the contact and shakes his head enough for the blanket to make a small cave-in where he could peek out and glare at Keith, who simply snorts at the face he’s making. 

Eventually, Keith steals the blanket back and settles next to Lance, laying on his back stiffly. He stares at the ceiling, hand still connected with Lance’s, and for a moment Keith wonders if this is actually just a really intricate dream. Lying next to Lance in his bed, after finding out they were long lost soulmates... it feels too good to be true. It’s like every fantasy Keith had hardly let himself have come to life. 

Good things can happen—he knows that deep down—but... they just didn’t happen to  _him_.  

He turns his head, letting his hair flop against the mattress. He stares at Lance’s face, illuminated by their light. His eyes are closed, and he’s breathing slowly, but Keith isn’t sure that he’s asleep. Up close, he looks so real—real enough to  _feel_. He smells like a campfire and something sugary, and all Keith can imagine is s’mores with dark chocolate. 

A small, breathy sigh falls from his lips. 

“Can feel you staring at me,” Lance murmurs, voice barely above a whisper. 

“Sorry,” Keith mumbles, meek, but he doesn’t turn his head away from Lance. 

Lance doesn’t open his eyes, but it seems more obvious that he’s awake. His tongue darts between his lips and his thumb absentmindedly taps against Keith’s own. Every few moments or so, his brows twitch, like he’s in deep thought. 

“I don’t wanna fall asleep,” Lance admits after a moment of silence. His voice sounds... different. If Keith didn’t know better, he’d think that he sounded despondent. Lance takes a deep breath. “I feel like I’m just going to wake up back in my own room, and you’re not going to remember anything. Like this is just going to end up being, like, a  _dream_.” 

Keith frowns at the reminder; somehow, he nearly forgot about the dreamscape. Lance had been there for four years, and Keith had only seen him tonight. Lance saw... so much of him, saw everything Keith felt and remembered because Keith didn’t hide it. He feels struck by the realization, and as he stares at Lance, whose lips tug into a gentle frown, he comes to become aware of the fact that he doesn’t know Lance as well as Lance knows him. 

And... he feels guilt. 

“You’re not dreaming,” Keith whispers the promise back, eyes moving from Lance’s sour face to his chest. Before he can even realize what he’s doing, Keith tucks himself against Lance, ear pressing against where his heart lays. Lance tenses for a moment, but then he seems to melt. His arm holds Keith’s back and he places his hand on the nape of his neck, fingers curling through his wavy black hair delicately. Keith sighs peacefully, more out of relief than anything, and then continues. “But... if you were, I’d want you to tell me the truth.” 

He hears Lance swallow. “Really?” His voice is raspy as he breathes out his response. 

Keith breathes in his scent as Lance’s fingers still in his hair. He tries to fight off the disappointment and longs for the tingling sensation to come back. He opts to listen to Lance’s heartbeat instead. 

“Yeah,” Keith says, cheek brushing against Lance’s silky shirt. He holds himself up a bit and turns his shoulders so he’s looking up at Lance. Lance looks down at him, brows still low. As Keith searches his face, he notices that his eyes are glassy. Keith doesn’t stop the frown that takes his lip. “Of course. Regardless of me being your soulmate or not, I... like you. I want to be  _with_ you. And... I dunno, I want to know you like you know me.” 

Lance’s frown morphs into a small smile. He brings the hand that rested on his stomach up and brushes Keith’s hair out of his eyes once again. This time, Keith melts into the affection—it's no surprise that he’s touch-starved, but laying there with Lance feels like he’d done it before. 

“I’m... glad that you saw me,” Lance quietly says. 

Keith gives him a gentle smile. He then leans forward, face pressing close to Lance’s. Lance inhales a sharp breath, his already half-lidded eyes dilating as his he glances down, looking to Keith’s lips. The sight urges pleasant shocks down Keith’s spine, to his toes. His nose brushes against Lance’s cheek, and Lance nudges back. Within a single heartbeat, their lips fall together, soft and gentle like a summer breeze, and Keith melts into him. 

“Me too,” Keith whispers against his lips. He can feel the way Lance’s cheeks heat, but he figures his are the same. Despite the lack of energy the two suffer from, Keith finds himself getting lost in Lance’s warmth. 

It takes a while, but their lips do ultimately part. Keith’s eyes flutter open, moving from Lance’s mouth, glossy and bruised, to his cheeks. They look as hot as Keith’s feel. Lance’s pupils remain large as he untangles his hands from Keith’s hair, and then he inhales a deep breath through his nose, all while he searches Keith’s face. It takes a moment for Keith’s head to catch up with his actions, and when it does, his eyes widen a fraction. 

He had... just kissed Lance, and Lance did the best thing—he kissed him back. 

Lance blinks, eyelids heavy, and then he smiles. Keith nearly chokes on his own heart in his throat. 

“We... have training. Soon,” he stutters out, looking down at Lance’s chest. The blue fabric is clenched in Keith’s hand, and he awkwardly lets go of it and tries to smooth it down. It wrinkles, but Lance doesn’t say anything. 

In fact, when Keith glances up at him through his bangs, Lance is looking at him with a lopsided smile, the fond one that’s meant for him and no one else. Keith’s teeth dig into his lip as his own smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. He doesn’t say anything else, but instead, he settles down against Lance’s chest. 

It takes a tick, but Lance’s hand ends up finding its way back into the ends of Keith’s hair, detangling the mess he had made of it before with his benevolent fingers. Keith sighs against his blue shirt, easing into a relaxed position, and then lets his eyes slip shut. 

“G’night, Keith,” Lance mumbles into the quiet. 

Keith can hear the tired smile woven between his words, and Lance’s fingers still in his hair. His breathing evens and Keith lies against his chest, listening to the constant thumping of his soulmate’s heartbeat. 

He knows that he should try to sleep—it’s almost 5 AM; he and the rest of the team have early morning training in three hours, and Keith had wanted to get in his own personal training beforehand, but for some reason, he’s only focusing on the beating inside of Lance’s chest and the steady intakes of breath that inflate his lungs. 

At that moment, Keith thinks, nothing else outside of his bedroom exists. Of course, distantly, he knows that isn’t true; he knows that in the other rooms in the castle, the rest of the team is sleeping soundly, trying to get the most rest that they can. He knows that in the hallway, the chamber is lit with a soft turquoise. 

But his bedroom is illuminated by glowing, violet love, and there is nothing else that he can prove. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> fin.
> 
> YOU MADE IT ALL THE WAY DOWN HERE! CONGRATS! (I say that as if this fic is 10000k words long pfft)
> 
> I really hope you enjoyed reading this, because I had a lot of fun writing it. This is the first beta'd one shot that I'm posting to this new account, so... this is like, a big deal. To me, at least? Yeah, let's go with that. Once again, I hope you enjoyed! Comment's and kudos are greatly appreciated!! <3
> 
> \- Cato
> 
> [tumblr](https://ghozting.tumblr.com)  
>  


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